


Safe Haven

by conniebeauchamp



Category: Mediator Series - Meg Cabot
Genre: F/M, So it's like a missing scene from the 5th book, it was probably written way back when it was published on ff but i thought i'd write my own version, where jesse goes and sees Dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25611541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniebeauchamp/pseuds/conniebeauchamp
Summary: A missing scene from the 5th book - Jesse wrangles with his love for Susannah Simon, and goes to see Father Dominic. // The way that one look into her eyes had him unable to stop himself doing anything but walking towards her, bending down towards her, kissing her. The feeling of her lips upon his, his hands in her hair, the feeling of belonging that only she could provide. A safe haven, as some might say, in a world not designed for Jesse de Silva.
Relationships: Hector "Jesse" de Silva/Susannah "Suze" Simon, suze/jesse, well suze/jesse implied it isn't really a romance atm
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> This scene is intended to slot in after CeeCee and Adam visit Suze (and Paul sends the flowers), but ends prior to Jesse and Paul fighting.

There are a grand total of four catalysts which cause Hector ‘Jesse’ de Silva to materialise in Father Dominic’s apartment in the Mission Refectory on a Tuesday afternoon in late August. Well, that’s a lie; there are hundreds of thousands, but they summarise down to four key principles. All of which are focused predominantly on Susannah Simon. Five, if you count the one that he doesn’t really like to acknowledge. The one about his existence

Despite Susannah’s tentative, infrequent and (she likes to think) subtle questioning, he doesn’t want to admit the reason that he’s still floating around in the world of the living. Or, at least, his theoretical reason. That he’s been waiting for someone. That he’s been waiting for _her_. Not that he could ever consider speaking those words out loud: for one, it is potentially the most egotistical thought he could ever possibly have; it isn’t even possible, _nombre de Dios_ , for he is a ghost and she is a living human … girl.

It’s easy to forget, he muses, that Susannah Simon is a seventeen year old; they’re on the same wavelength on so many aspects of life. Even where they vehemently disagree, they’re connected. Or so he likes to think – she’d be like that with any ghost who happened to haunt her newly acquired bedroom, he’s sure. But she is seventeen and he is twenty – or over one hundred and fifty, if haunting a near-empty house for a century counts as living. Which, in the voice inside his head’s opinion, it does.

That certainly isn’t something he feels comfortable talking to Father Dominic though; he has had a great many sins to confess over the period of time he has known the older (younger?) man. Even that was a risk, he realises on reflection: as a committed Catholic, perhaps it was the lack of final absolution from his sins that had stopped him moving on?

But no, he didn’t disappear at that point – though potentially because he had failed to confess the greatest sin of all: that he was in love with Susannah Simon.

Although he’s sure he felt it immediately, it took a while for him to recognise that it wasn’t just appreciation that _someone_ could see him but, rather, that he couldn’t live without her…pun not intended. He couldn’t imagine continuing to haunt this planet without Susannah there. Perhaps it was after the poison oak, or when he sat in the back of that boy’s car who had his tongue down her throat and wished that she was kissing _him_ instead, or maybe even when she trusted him to help her with her sunburn … or all of those aspects together. For they combined into one overwhelming emotion: love.

An emotion that didn’t even disappear, even in those hours he thought that she had wanted him exorcised. Other emotions overwhelmed it – crushing disappointment, desolation, frustration, anger among many – but he had continued to love her. _Continues_ to love her.

Before, he categorised his experiences as either Before his Murder or After his Murder. Now, it was Before Susannah and With Susannah. He was scared that, soon, there was going to be a third category: After Susannah.

As he waits for Father Dominic, he lets himself remember the first time that he allowed himself to think that his theory about Susannah’s views towards him were aligned with his towards her: the moment the Gatekeeper summoned him, when he saw no one other than Susannah Simon. The moment he realised she had exorcised herself (how?!) just to find him, to bring him back.

The agonising day and a half he had spent by her bedside, craving the second or two she would awaken every few hours for him to drip some water into her lips, waiting for her to wake up.

His childish, cowardly reaction of disappearing into nothingness as soon as her eyelids fluttered open for more than a split second.

The way he wanted to talk to her, to ask her why she brought him back (“Was it really just for the cat, Susannah?” “Did you know that I am maddeningly in love with you, Susannah?” “I wish I was alive simply to be with you, Susannah.”), but she didn’t want to talk.

The way that one look into her eyes had him unable to stop himself doing anything but walking towards her, bending down towards her, kissing her. The feeling of her lips upon his, his hands in her hair, the feeling of belonging that only she could provide. A safe haven, as some might say, in a world not designed for Jesse de Silva.

That was the first catalyst for him going to see Father Dominic – for a good Catholic, it should have been the _only_. For not more than a minute after he had kissed her, there was a banging on the door. Brad, Jesse had deduced. He hadn’t been able to participate in the conversation which followed – he had never been able to participate in a conversation with the Ackermans, had he? – nor to help Susannah explain why she wasn’t her usual acerbic self. And he never would be able to participate in those conversations: his entire world consisted of Susannah Simon, Spike, Father Dominic, and the occasional itinerant ghost. There would be no trips to the beach with Susannah and her friends, no mall trips, no romantic meals for two under candlelight at the Carmel Tavern. Because nobody could see him.

If he truly loved her, how could he consider putting her in that sort of half-life, a world where she seemed perpetually alone because nobody could see the person she was with? A life where she couldn’t have her own family, couldn’t do any of the things you were supposed to do with the person you love?

The second had been his awareness (or rather, _lack_ of awareness) of her feelings towards him. He had _kissed_ her. He had assumed that her visit to that corridor meant that she felt the same way that he did towards her. Yet that wasn’t the case – and remains that way. How could he have been so forward when he didn’t even bother to ask her a single question about her feelings towards him? There were so many assumptions made on his part, assumptions which meant that he scarcely felt comfortable in her presence for the rest of her vacation.

How could _anyone_ act the way he did, let alone Jesse de Silva? Despite his implied claims that he was a better gentleman than anyone of the modern era, he had failed to show even a modicum of gentlemanly behaviour at the most crucial time.

A glance at the time revealed that it was almost five thirty in the evening – almost time for Father Dominic to return. Enough time to fully process the events of the previous hour, those which had been the decisive factors in his decision to confess, to challenge the current status quo. The events which would likely cause an irreparable chasm between himself and Susannah.

The events which started with a delivery of two dozen roses from none other than Paul Slater. The one who had almost killed Susannah. The one who had laughed when she panicked in the transitional space between realms. The one who, apparently, had returned to Carmel – and, indeed, joined the High School – and whose presence Jesse hadn’t known about. Sitting in the desk chair of Father Dominic’s room, the moment of discovery continues to hit Jesse like a tonne of bricks: his heart hasn’t truly beaten in over one hundred years, but if it had it would have stopped at the discovery. It was like he was hurtled into this alternative realm, one where he didn’t recognise anyone, one where he was treading water simultaneously with watching his worst nightmares come to life. Susannah dying. Father Dominic dying. Maria returning to hurt the Ackerman family again. Him never seeing Susannah again. Seeing Paul Slater destroy everything he had in this world.

It was something he knew he hadn’t been able to keep off his face; normally, he prided himself on his poker face, however mid-afternoon on the first Tuesday of September was not the day. Clearly not – otherwise why would he be here, in Father Dominic’s abode?

She clearly didn’t trust him – or even care about his involvement in her life – enough to tell him about Paul. But it wasn’t just that: it was the flowers. Two dozen flowers…flowers that other people could see. Flowers which portrayed the feeling of extreme _amor_ through the sheer number of roses. Even in ‘his’ time, roses had been the flower of love, of romance, of courtship.

And they were from _Paul Slater_.

But, perhaps worse, was the fact that Jesse knew that _he_ couldn’t send Susannah Simon flowers. _He_ could collect some wild flowers, of course, and fashion them into something. But that wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a courier delivery designed to get everyone who looked at them to recognise that the sender _really loved_ the recipient. He would never be able to do that. Helen Ackerman could never swoon over Susannah’s flower delivery; David could never deliver them; Bradley could never learn the art of romance…they would simply be a sad collection of wildflowers in a small vase, rapidly wilting away into oblivion.

Almost concurrently, his final impetus to see Father Dominic arrived: CeeCee and Adam’s arrival, and the casual mention of his name. Well, casual was perhaps the wrong word: he noticed how quickly Susannah looked away from him at his mention in a conversation with people whom he had never properly met. Would never formally meet. And yet they knew about him – well, a version of him.

Within a few seconds of CeeCee saying his name, he had dematerialised. It wasn’t his place, to be in Susannah’s room. It never had been. If he had stayed, it would have been a gross invasion of her privacy – and the world where she has created a version of him who is knowable to the living. It was that regret that led to him arriving at Father Dominic’s: he wants to be with Susannah Simon, of course. But the concept of a world in which she has to pretend that he is someone else, to create elaborate excuses for his absence, is too much for him to bear.

Snapping back to the present for a moment, Jesse surveys the room in the Mission’s Dormitory. Despite being the leader of the community, Father Dominic’s room is remarkably simple – much like the décor of Jesse’s time. The only notable differences are the electric lights, the telephone and the seldom-used desktop computer at the desk. Otherwise, one could imagine this room as the Carmel Boarding House of the mid-19th century.

Well, except for the fact that Jesse wasn’t _murdered_ in this room.

He finds himself lost in errant thoughts from his sisters to how Susannah laughs even more heartily than normal when he cracks the first smile when Father Dominic returns.

“Oh, Jesse,” Father Dominic says, a hand on his chest. “You startled me.”

“Apologies, Father,” Jesse responds, feeling guilt run through his veins – if, of course, anything does course through his veins. Which most people would not, given his deceased status. Of course Father Dominic would be shocked at seeing Jesse in his private chambers. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I just … felt that it was best to come directly here.”

A frown forms on Father Dominic’s face, but he says nothing until his bedroom door is closed, his coat is securely hung on a hook, and he is sat on the edge of his bed.

“Have a seat, Jesse,” are his first words, uttered in a tone Jesse has scarcely heard before – one that is _usually_ directed towards Susannah. He indicates towards the office chair opposite him. “This is about Susannah, I presume?”

Wordlessly, Jesse nods. Was it really that obvious? Or was Father Dominic more astute than either himself or Susannah had given him credit for?

Or, he thinks to himself, who else could it be about? A grand total of three people in the world can see him – well, four.

Father Dominic is silent, clearly waiting for Jesse to start the conversation. Or perhaps he’s waiting for Jesse to confess. Either way, he feels anxious.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He makes the sign of the cross, noting in his peripheral vision that Father Dominic’s face reveals an element of shock. Clearly, wherever he was expecting the conversation to go, it wasn’t to a quasi-confession booth.

“Jesse, I…” Father Dominic begins, but Jesse cuts him off, suddenly feeling emboldened.

“Father, I have something to confess,” he starts, his tone as close to neutral as it can get whenever he thinks about Susannah. Which is the problem, isn’t it? “I kissed Susannah.” _She kissed me back_ , is where his mind immediately goes, but he refrains from making that comment to the priest.

He pauses for breath – not that it’s particularly required – when Father Dominic interrupts.

“I see,” he commences, heaving a huge sigh. Is it Jesse’s imagination, or does the Father look older than he did eight months ago, when they first met? “And that happened...today? After school?”

Jesse can’t bring himself to look at the Father when he replies, “three weeks ago.”

The Father takes a sharp intake of breath and slips off the bed, heading towards his coat; it’s likely he’s looking for his unopened cigarette packet, a familiar coping mechanism.

“Now can you see why I opened a confession?” Jesse mutters, half to himself and half to Father Dominic, as the older man returns to his perch on the bed. “As well as the fact that … well … I do regret it, almost as much as I do not. Regret what happened, I mean.”

“Three weeks ago,” Father Dominic repeats, as if Jesse hasn’t spoken. “Jesse, how _could_ you?” His tone is both admonishing and stern, frustrated and as discomposed as Jesse had ever seen him.

Dropping his head into his hands, Jesse thinks of a swear word in Spanish that would have him sent to hell if he said it out loud. Exactly. How _could_ he? Sitting here, in the Mission Dormitory, makes it ever clearer to him.

“She is _seventeen_ ,” Dominic continues, “and whilst you may not be significantly older physically, you have been a ghost for over one hundred years! And you are a _ghost_ , Jesse! I understand that you two have had a … friendship develop across Susannah’s time in Carmel thus far, but…

“But – and I hate to be this blunt – you do not belong in the world of the living anymore. And she _does_.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Jesse retorts, lifting his head out of his hands and staring directly at the priest. He’s sure the anguish is evident on his face; he’s never truly been able to hide when he’s upset. Particularly when he’s upset about Susannah Simon. “Don’t you think that I knew that it was wrong to feel how I did? Don’t you know how hard I fought it, to be as gentlemanly as possible? I lived in her bedroom – I was aware that I was a friend only, that I was not to be a permanent feature in her life. And yet, despite the best of intentions, despite the strongest will in the world, I was too weak to fight the cruel situation in which I find myself, a ghost, in love with a living person.”

There’s silence as he finishes speaking, silence which continues for a beat too long. It becomes clear that Father Dominic desires simply to listen – or, at least, that’s what Jesse assumes. He doesn’t dare look in the Father’s direction again after his outburst, returning his attention to his hands. There are the historic signs of calluses and cuts, caused by rough wood on the ranch or the knots within his lasso. They had just started to fence the ranch, he can recall, when he left to break things off with Maria: it was revolutionary at the time, to demarcate your own property with something as permanent as a fence. He had caught his hands on the new wood - and, indeed, his horse – more than he cared to admit.

He thought he would have the rest of his life to get used to the fences, to managing the ranch.

He thought he would have time.

Time he did not have.

“I can say truthfully that nothing happened before, Father Dominic,” Jesse continues, his voice low, his gaze still directed at his hands. “Not before the Slaters arrived, anyway,” he clarifies, “that was the changing point in the relationship. In my feelings, I mean. As I can’t assume anything about how Susannah feels – I…I mean to say that we haven’t discussed it, I didn’t feel it proper to discuss—”

“Jesse,” Father Dominic interrupts him, as if to get him back on track.

“Apologies…Yes, well, it was when the younger Slater exorcised me, when he told me that Susannah had wanted it. I felt…enraged. Angrier, perhaps, than I ever had before – followed shortly by the most extreme feeling of desolation I had ever encountered. More so than my realisation that I was a ghost, that Diego had killed me. More, I must admit, than when I feared your death. And then I realised that my anger was more pronounced because I _loved_ her – I could not possibly fathom a situation in which she could ask _a different mediator_ to exorcise me…unless it was because she had realised that my feelings towards her were not those of a mere friend. 

“And then she appeared, her entire body haloed, and I feared the worst. Then the rage returned – was she there just to make sure I went through a door?

“After that, I still haven’t fully processed every emotion I felt. Relief that she was fine; unadulterated joy that she _hadn’t_ exorcised me; anger at her willingness to put herself into such extreme danger for me. And I fear that I misinterpreted her journey to that place – she told me it was for Spike, for a dozen ridiculous reasons, but…but I was fairly certain she came for me.” He smiles a wry smile. “And so we returned, I sat by her side for a day and a half, praying she would wake up. That, if my love for her was strong enough, she would. That I would do my best to stay away from her if she would just _wake up_.

“She returned and, foolishly, I let my relief manifest itself in a kiss. I shouldn’t have done it – I wanted to apologise a dozen times over in the following weeks, but I couldn’t bring myself to upset the delicate status quo.” He pauses a moment, aware suddenly of a slight dampness to the corner of his eye: ironic that a ghost could still feel every emotion, despite not really being there. “So I deigned to keep it as it was, despite knowing that it would never be the same again. I’ve made assumptions about how she feels, about how she reacted to me, about how she has been since. But…but I behaved improperly. So I tried to pretend it didn’t happen – though every fibre of my being is aware that it _did_.”

This time, the silence seems poignant, meaningful, important – at least, Jesse assumes it’s supposed to feel that way. Because, to him, the silence is agony: more time to ponder the mistakes he’s made with Susannah.

“And what triggered your desire to confess this to me, Jesse?” Father Dominic’s voice is smooth, unreadable, calm, everything that Jesse is not.

“Because…because I didn’t know what to do,” Jesse admits. “There are so many thoughts raging in my mind, there’s a chasm between each and every one of them. A chasm between what is right and what I _want_ and so many dozens of other factors.” His frankness takes even himself a little by surprise: emotionally available (despite not being a phrase of note in the nineteenth century) has never been a description of Jesse de Silva. Susannah Simon would certainly agree…

“What do you want to happen?” Father Dominic’s question catches him by surprise; it isn’t exactly the avenue down which a priest would normally go.

“I don’t know exactly,” Jesse admits, “to be alive and to take Susannah to a dance and for people to see me. But that isn’t going to happen, is it?” He sighs, a relinquishment of the pipe dream he has carried for so many weeks without even being conscious of it. “And yet, I can’t help but be unable to see a world where I am not with Susannah? At the very least her friend.”

He looks up, his hands clasped, his hair half-obscuring his sight, and prays that he will have the strength to take the right path.

“Father, what…what do you think?”

For the third time in their conversation – which has been less of a conversation and more of an outpouring of a steady stream of sins and emotions from Jesse – there’s a lengthy silence.

“Let me be wholly honest, Jesse, I am furious,” Father Dominic begins, “both at Susannah and yourself, but largely you. You are an _adult_ and should know better, at least to have told me! _Especially_ with where you are based.” Another silence ensues before, “…A kiss? As in nothing more?”

“I swear on the Mother that it was only a kiss,” Jesse replies instantly. The _type_ of kiss wasn’t under discussion, hopefully…

“Then thank the Lord that you were restrained enough at the time,” Father Dominic continues, his tone increasingly harsh. “Why you didn’t tell me before, that is my main concern. It may be done, but we will be discussing that in detail at a later date. For now…for now, yes, I really must insist that you move into the Rectory. There are plenty of books for you to read, plenty of solitude.”

That gets him to look up. “No,” he says, more of a breath than an actual reply.

“You know it is the right thing to do, Jesse.” Father Dominic’s voice is harsh, impatient at Jesse’s attempt at an obstacle. “I should have insisted when I first found out about you, but I believed that it was innocent, and agreed with Susannah to an extent that it was your home. I was wrong then, but I can correct that mistake now. It is absolutely for the best – for both of you.”

Jesse offers no response; he has no objection, this is the only real option. The real question is about what _else_ Father Dominic has to say.

“Oh Jesse,” Father Dominic’s tone has changed once more, this time surprisingly wistful. “It does get easier – for both of you.”

“Father?”

“Fifty years ago, I was in love for the only time of my life,” Father Dominic continues, his eyes no longer focused on Jesse. Instead, to Jesse’s untrained eye, it looks like he is lost down memory lane. “She was called Rose and she was my age. Well, she was physically: you see, she was a ghost. It wasn’t a deliberate decision to fall in love with her – we were on a friendly basis, trying to work out why she was yet to move to the other side. The longer we spent together, the closer we became, until I realised I didn’t _want_ her to move on…I was in love with her, and she with me.

“It was at that point that I realised how wrong the situation was. My role as a mediator was to help her move on, and instead I was trying to keep her in a world she no longer belonged in. A world where she could see her family gradually moving on from the heartbreak her death had caused, a world where nobody could see her but I.

“A world not designed for a ghost.”

He pauses a moment and Jesse notes the discreet appearance of a white handkerchief dabbed at both eyes, before continuing.

“A tad ironic, but the moment I kissed her was the moment that she realised her unfinished business was to experience her first kiss,” Father Dominic continues, a half-chuckle accompanying his words. “And, for me, that was a sign from the Lord that I was wrong to have tried to keep her in the world. For if it was right, surely Rose would still be here?” He shrugs a little. “At that point, I joined the priesthood, as I knew that there was nothing truly for me in the civilian world. The priesthood removed the need for me to ‘get over’, as the youth of today like to say, the only person I have ever truly loved.”

“Father, I…” Jesse begins, lost for words, his own mind racing to try and form some form of coherence from the story he’s heard. There are so many lessons, ones that he is trying desperately to forget and ignore and pretend aren’t reality. Yet there is no escaping the Father’s implied message: that the only person who will truly be hurt is Susannah.

“You are moving to the Rectory, that is decided. You say that you are not in a relationship with Susannah, despite your feelings and…yes, well,” Father Dominic begins, before abruptly cutting himself off. This alone would be enough to pique Jesse’s interest – what does he mean? Why did he stop himself? What was he going to say? Was it about Susannah? What does he know?

“Yes, I am going to move,” Jesse confirms, when it seems that the conversation will go no further. “Immediately.”

Father Dominic continues his silence for another, agonising seventy-seven seconds. “What I mean to say, Jesse, is… _you are not supposed to be here_. Say you and Susannah…become an item, so to speak. Who can she tell about that? Who can she receive flowers from? Who can she take to the Coffee Clutch?”

“Father, I know—” Jesse tries to interrupt, despite not really knowing what he would say, when Father Dominic ignores him.

“What happens if she copes with this for years, because she truly loves you, despite what her family think, and then one day, you disappear? One day, your unfinished business is no longer unfinished – what does she do then? She might be young enough to move on and find a new partner, a new life. Or she might be filled with regret of what could have been with you – despite knowing that there was no future?

“Or does that not happen? Does she live with you for her entire life, a happiness no one but I could see? What would _you_ do after she dies?”

The Father is breathing heavily as he finishes speaking, and Jesse realises that these scenarios are born of his own experience.

“I…I understand, Father,” Jesse murmurs, his words barely audible over the rising hubbub in the Rectory. “I…Please believe me when I say there is nothing that has happened. I would never dare to speak for Susannah – as far as I am aware, I’ve created this situation in my own head. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Jesse,” Father Dominic replies, a strange bitterness in his voice. “I wish that there had been someone to have this conversation with me half a century ago. But that doesn’t mean that I wanted this. You must know that.”

“I do,” is the easiest response. “Despite it being the opposite of what I’d wish to hear, I know that it is the truth and—” He’s cut off by a loud knock at the door.

“Dom! Dinner’s almost ready – you’ll wanna be quick, we’re on tacos tonight!”

“I’ll be right there,” Father Dominic replies, raising his voice to be audible through the thick oak door. As soon as the other man’s footsteps can no longer be heard, he returns his attention to Jesse.

“Susannah,” he says simply, “is a young woman who often reacts… _emotionally_ to changes she perceives as large in her life. She also is particularly persuasive when trying to get her way.” Quiet falls again as Jesse tries to work out exactly what it is that Father Dominic is asking him. “What I am asking, Jesse, is if you would like me to tell Susannah of the change in your … living arrangements.”

It takes him more than a minute to respond. His entire being is determined to do the honourable thing, to tell Susannah himself. It’d be the perfect opportunity to assess whether she could possibly have any feelings towards him other than friendship – or if their relationship was purely platonic plus the parenting of Spike. Equally, he knows that if there _is_ anything between them, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

Better to be the coward and ensure that he moves out – thereby preventing further damage to his immortal soul, and to prevent hers from being sullied – than to risk not being able to go through with it. Better that Susannah hate him for his cowardice than the alternative.

“I think you know it is best if you do it, Father,” Jesse says slowly. “Though…I truly am sorry for putting you in this situation. I hope you can forgive me.”

Father Dominic heaves a sigh. “There is nothing for me to forgive, Jesse, it is up to the Lord as you well know. I best head down to the refectory for dinner – would you like me to show you to the library?”

Jesse shakes his head, leaning back in the chair for the first time. “No thank you, Father. I think I’ll stay here a while – if that is alright with yourself?”

Pausing when he reaches the exit to the room, Father Dominic turns around briefly to say, “it really is for the best, Jesse. I hope you – and Susannah – will see that in the long run.”

The door closes gently behind him, leaving Jesse in the room alone with his thoughts. The raging vortex has calmed somewhat, creating a path through the tumultuous waters of his life as a ghost. Of his life With Susannah.

Or is it the start of his life After Susannah?

He hopes, truly hopes, that he’s made the right decision. For his immortal soul, for Susannah’s, for their love. For her future. Because, when it comes down to it, he’s a ghost who shouldn’t still be wandering the earth. What business does he have interfering with the barely-started life of a human?

Yet if he allowed himself to question it, he wonders if she _is_ his unfinished business.

Maybe he’ll find out – if she ever speaks to him again.

(He knows she will. After all, he heard the prophecy Gina mentioned.)

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this - if you'd be interested in any other Suze/Jesse fics, please let me know!


End file.
